How I Met Your Mother- George and Angelina
by Gryffindor010697
Summary: Simply put, this is the story of how George and Angelina got together. Read the rises, the falls, and the silly stories as the originally unlikely couple fall in love, marry, and have kids. If I get good responses I will do some other couples. So read, enjoy, review, favorite, and follow, in that order. *Be brutal in the reviews!*
1. The Party

**April 4, 2029- Fred Weasley II and Sierra Jordan's Engagement Party**

Butterbeer and firewhiskey (and water for George) clinked in glasses all around the table. George's parents and siblings' families had soon gone home and George sat around the table with his wife, children and their significant others.

"Jonathan, you lucked out with my sister," Fred said, slightly tipsy from the whiskey.

"Boy, did I! I used to be such a git to her during school," Jonathan said kissing his wife on her forehead. He was as inebriated as his brother-in-law and left a little drool on his wife's hand.

Roxanne laughed as she dried her hand off on her jeans, "You were a complete arse!" Roxanne agreed, "I don't see how I kept up the crush I had on you."

"Maybe it was my good looks," Jonathan suggested, almost as a question. There was a beat of silence before everyone broke out in boisterous laughter.

"No I think you two deserve each other," Fred said, digging his sister in the ribs. She punched him on his arm.

"Sierra doesn't exactly deserve the punishment of marrying you, now does she son?" Angelina asked Fred over her shoulder. She was manually washing dishes after the engagement party.

"Must be bad karma," Sierra said, laughingly.

"Oh, shut up," Fred said with a smile, "From the story I heard, dad used to be a right git to you ma."

"Very true," Angelina said, drying her hands off.

"I was not _that_ bad, was I Ange?" George asked earnestly.

"You were pretty bad, Georgie. In fact I almost gave up on you."

"Glad you didn't, or I wouldn't have my beautiful wife," Jonathan said. He leaned over to kiss Roxy passionately.

"Or my fiancé," Sierra leaned in to kiss Fred.

"Oi, get a room," Lee Jordan, Sierra's father called from the couch. He had been the first one to be overcome by the joys of firewhiskey and he had passed out about an hour ago.

Everyone laughed, then Sierra spoke up, "So how did you two meet anyway?" she asked, referring to her future parents-in-law.

"Oh Merlin, not this story again," Fred said rolling his eyes.

"Hush, Freddy, I want to know," Sierra said smiling.

"Alright," George said as he slumped in his chair. He put his feet up on the table and began with, "Well let's start from the beginning. This is how I met your mother."

Lee let out a snore from the couch.

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	2. Off to a Bad Start

**September 1, 1989**

George walked past the Gryffindor table with Fred in front of him and a whole line of first years in front of Fred. He could just make out McGonagall's pointed hat making its way up to the platform in the Great Hall.

George had just spotted the gleam of Charlie's prefect badge when the line stopped in front of the platform. Charlie gave him a thumbs-up.

In truth, George wasn't nervous about what house he was going to be in. Honestly, as long as he wasn't in Slytherin or Hufflepuff, he didn't care. Slytherin was for pricks and Hufflepuff was filled with the boring misfits. The only thing he was scared about was Fred. He didn't want the stupid mangy hat to split them up.

He had barely noticed that McGonagall had already started calling out names. People had already been sorted and she was already up to the J's. "Johnson, Angelina." McGonagall called out.

George watched as a girl, at least three inches taller than him, walked up to the platform. She seemed extraordinarily confident as she sat on the stool, back straight and jaw set. McGonagall placed the hat on the girl's head and not a second later, it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina, it seemed, was not surprised by the hat's verdict and George watched as she strode to the cheering Gryffindor table, head almost poked into the air with pride. He wished he could be as confident as she was.

A Lee Jordan was next and the hat sorted him into Gryffindor also. He looked very relieved. Then there was a McDonalds, Two Smiths, a Spinnet, and a Tolliver and then McGonagall called for, "Weasley, Fred."

Charlie and some of his friends rowdily applauded from the table and they earned a stern look from McGonagall. "Save all applause until his house is called, Mr. Weasley," she scolded. Charlie beamed back at her.

George watched in near-horror as Fred sat on the stool where his legs barely touched the floor. Fred looked fine but George knew he was just as scared as he was. The hat seemed to lament for what seemed like hours and finally, the hat yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!" Charlie gave a standing ovation and gave a couple of catcalls as his brother sat down.

"Weasley, George," McGonagall said. George stumbled his way toward the stool. It was seven steps until he made it and it took two seconds for McGonagall to place it on his head. He felt is heartbeat gain speed as he waited.

"_You don't want to be separated from your brother do you?"_ the Hat asked inside of his head.

George wasn't sure whether or not to say his answer out loud.

"_Well, he _is_ my twin… Mr. Hat,"_ George said.

"_Yes well, you are quite a trouble maker. Slytherin would fit you well."_

"_My brother is a trouble maker too! Just let em be in Gryffindor with him and Charlie and Percy for that matter."_

"_Well if I separated you two, you'd find a way to set me ablaze, wouldn't you?" _the Hat asked amused.

"_Yup, sure would," _George smiled.

"_Fine, then I guess you're a _GRYFFINDOR!" the hat yelled the last word.

George smiled as he almost ran to the table to sit beside his brothers. Fred gave him a high five.

"I thought you were going to be a Slytherin for a second," Fred teased.

"No! Never!" George disputed.

"I'm just glad I wasn't a Hufflepuff, how embarrassing would that have been?" came a voice directly across from George. It was the girl, Angelina, from earlier.

"You didn't seem too concerned," George said passively.

"Yeah, well, I was," she said, almost insulted.

"Excuse my brother," Fred said, "He can be a bit of a prat sometimes. My name is Fred," he held his hand out and Angelina shook it.

"I see," Angelina said. She scooted down the bench to sit in front of Fred.

George didn't know what he did to offend the girl. Maybe she was just sensitive.

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	3. The Bipolar Chaser from Hell

**September 8, 1990**

George descended to the ground. He looked hopefully at the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch. Charlie smiled at his brother, "You did good, George. You and Fred both did good."

"Not great, huh?" George asked. He was semi-joking and went over to sit on the bench with Fred.

"How'd I do?" George asked his brother. Fred had gone before him and he had watched the whole thing.

"Better than me. You hit eight out of ten of your Bludgers… I only hit six," Fred said.

"Nah, you're good mate. That bloke over there," George said pointing at a third year that was crying his eyes out, "he only hit one. And I do believe two actually hit him in the face," George teased.

Fred laughed and they both looked up to see who was trying out next. George recognized that shoulder length ponytail anywhere. It was Angelina.

"What's your girlfriend trying out for anyway?" George asked.

"She isn't my girlfriend… yet," Fred qualified, "And she's trying out for Chaser."

"Oh, wow, that's ballsy for a girl," George mused.

"And you're an ass… you know for a guy," Fred said.

"Well, I'm just saying, she might be in over her head," George defended.

George looked up to find the current Keeper, Oliver Wood, defending the three goal posts. Angelina bobbed and weaved on her broom in front of him. She faked left and Oliver followed the fake so Angelina swerved right and got the Quaffle into the middle goal.

"That was pretty amazing," Fred said. He hopped up to go meet Angelina as she alighted to the ground. George followed his brother.

"That was awesome, Ange!" Fred enthused as he hugged Angelina.

"No, I did horrible. I could've gotten around Wood faster. It's just-," Angelina was cut-off.

"Ah, shut up, Johnson, you did good," George said.

"Shut up? What do you mean 'shut up'?" Angelina said, rounding on George.

"No, I'm just saying-,"

"Saying nothing! Not everyone hit eight out of the ten Bludgers that were coming after them and not everybody is going up against complete losers, well except you Fred. Some of us actually might not have a chance to be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," Angelina yelled. Her eyes were fiery and her hair seemed to stand on end.

"Merlin, your bipolar," George mumbled as he walked away.

"That's right Weasley, walk off!" Angelina called after George. Fred began to calm her down.

"Girls!" George threw his hands up to the sky.

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George stuffed his mouth with a biscuit and jam the next morning as Charlie walked up behind him.

"Where's Fred?" Charlie asked.

"I dunno, probably somewhere snogging Angelina," George said, spraying biscuit crumbs on his brother's face.

Charlie wiped off the biscuit crumbs, "Oh, that's nice. When you see him would you make sure he knows that he made the team," Charlie said as he walked off. George almost choked.

"Wait did I?" George yelled after his brother.

"Well, of course you did you git!" Charlie called back.

"What about Angelina?" George asked. He wasn't sure why he asked.

"Johnson? Yeah she mad it too. Best Chaser I've seen since my second year!" Charlie said.

George sighed in a mixture of relief and frustration. He was going to have all year with his lovesick brother the bipolar Chaser from hell that his brother fancied.

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	4. Settling for a Beauxbaton Girl

**December 15, 1994**

"Look at _her!_" George ogled as a Beauxbaton girl pranced by.

"Yes, I'm sure she's great looking," Fred said. The boys sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall during their free period. Fred was ogling at another girl, this one no less beautiful.

"Why don't you just ask Angelina to the ball and save me the trouble of slapping you every time you stare at her for hours?" George asked.

"I will… when the time is right," Fred said. He broke his stare at Angelina and looked at his brother, "I don't see you jumping on the 'lets-get-a-date-to-the-Yule-Ball' train. Where's your date you git?"

"The girl I wanted to go with is kinda taken already," George said, downcast. Then he remembered whom he was talking to. Trying to cover up his disappointment he said, "But I'm sure one of these Beauxbaton girls would be happy to go with a strong Hogwarts fellow like me," George beamed.

"Who did you wa-," Fred started to ask before Angelina sat down in front of them.

"Hey, Fred," Angelina smiled, "George," she said, more sullenly.

"Hey Ange."

"Sup, Johnson. I think Fred has something to say to you," George said as he slid from the bench and ran off. Fred threw a textbook at his head, which George dodged by a centimeter.

"Yeah, thanks a lot you wanker!" Fred yelled after his brother. George made it to the other end of the table and he sat down. He watched as Fred awkwardly turned toward Angelina and saw his mouth move rather slowly, as if he were babbling. Angelina looked pensive for a second then enthusiastically nodded. She smiled and stood to give Fred a kiss on the forehead. She walked off with Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell in tow.

Fred turned and gave George an enthusiastic thumbs-up. George half-heartedly returned the gesture and stood up to leave the Great Hall. He was going to eventually hear about every detail of the two-sentence conversation between Fred and Angelina later, so he didn't see the point in sticking around now.

Now that his first choice was officially taken, George focused his sights on the next best thing. Beauxbaton girls.

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	5. He's Gone

**May 3, 1998**

The sky had begun to brighten on the horizon as Angelina walked out unto the grounds of Hogwarts. She had graduated two years prior but she could still walk the grounds with her eyes closed. She knew the exact spot where she and Fred had their first kiss (Katie had dared them) somewhere near the Whopping Willow. She remembered when Fred first pitched the idea of dropping out of Hogwarts on the banks of Black Lake. He had offered for her to come with he and George, but she was determined to graduate.

He's gone.

She remembered where Fred had hexed Malfoy's robes to catch fire.

He's gone.

He's _gone_ gone. Like for good. She couldn't really process the information. It wasn't really possible.

Angelina looked around her. She had been walking for about thirty minutes and she didn't recognize her surroundings. She just made out the line of dark trees in front of her and she realized she was facing the Forbidden Forest. She debated on going in and aimlessly walking around until she was completely lost but then she thought about how selfish that would be. Enough people had died in the past twelve hours. Tonks, Lupin, Creevey. Fred.

He's gone.

Angelina was ripped from her thoughts by the sound of sobbing; and not normal, quasi-silent sobbing. These sobs were horribly loud and they sounded as if someone was taking their last breath. Angelina drew her wand, expecting a disgruntled, injured Death Eater.

"_Lumos_," she whispered. Her wand tip lit and she pointed it behind the tree where she had heard the noise.

Angelina gasped. For a moment, a very sweet moment, Angelina thought that Fred was sitting in front of her, crying his eyes out. She realized was obviously mistaken when she saw the still-raw wound where George's ear had been.

The two stared at each other. George's face was red, swollen, and puffy. His eyes were a violent scarlet and in danger of drying out soon enough. Angelina hadn't cried yet. Her eyes hadn't gotten the message to be sad so there she was, slightly scratched up (she was really good at dueling), and virtually unharmed. Without a word, Angelina dropped to her knees and pulled the sobbing boy to her chest. His sobbing commenced and Angelina felt a water drip down her cheeks.

She looked up, expecting to see a rain cloud, or a dripping branch above her. Then more water fell down her cheek and into her mouth. It was salty.

Angelina felt her eyes. They were crying. She was so out of it, her eyes had started crying without her. The realization of what had happened to her, to George, to all the Weasleys. Her brain caught up with her eyes soon enough and she sobbed just as hard as the man she was holding. The man who had just lost his other half, his best friend, and his twin all in the same day.

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	6. A Girl and a Drunk Walk Into a Bar

**April 1, 2000**

Angelina Johnson walked into the Leaky Cauldron with a smile on her face. She had just gotten back into town from her long vacation in the States.

She sat at a table and waited for a waiter.

"Angelina Johnson?" came a vaguely familiar voice.

Angelina turned to find the familiar, slightly scarred face of Neville Longbottom. He had a towel draped over his shoulder and a pen and pad floating in front of him, ready to take an order.

"Neville!" Angelina exclaimed. She stood and embraced her old friend.

"Where the hell have ya been, Ange?" Neville asked as he sat at Angelina's table.

"I took a _very_ extended vacation in the States. I have some family over there and I needed to… just get away from everything," she smiled.

"I understand completely," Neville said, "I-,"

"Neville, darling, could you get back to work?" someone called from behind the bar.

Angelina turned to see Hannah Abbott. She was cleaning out a mug. She looked up and they made eye contact, "Angelina? How are you?"

Angelina smiled and waved, "I'm fine. Just got off the plane from America."

"Well, in that case, come to the bar and get a free drink for your homecoming!" Hannah said. Angelina walked to the bar and sat on a stool in front of Hannah.

Hannah poured a glass of clear alcohol and pumpkin juice she slid the mug to Angelina.

"Hannah, come over here!" came a voice from the back of the restaurant.

"Be right back," Hannah smiled as she went off.

Angelina sipped her drink and grimaced at the strength.

"America, huh?" Angelina heard a familiar voice to her left. She turned her head to find a man with long, disheveled hair and a beard that needed trimming a few months prior.

"Uh, yeah," she said. She shook it off and continued with her drink. Hannah came back behind the bar.

"Another one, Hannah" said the man to Angelina's left.

"George, I can't. We cut people off at six drinks here and you know that. And besides what would your mum say if you got hurt?" Hannah said.

Angelina's ears perked up. Did she just say George?

"My mum doesn't know where I am. And she doesn't need to. Isn't that right, Hannah?" the man said. He looked up and Angelina let out an audible gasp.

"Sup, Ange," George said. The smell of alcohol hit Angelina squarely in her face.

"George…" was all Angelina had to say.

"Yeah, it's our birthday," he said. His words were slurred and he was practically sweating alcohol.

"Whose birth… Oh," she said. She scooted down to the stool right next to his.

"Ha… Happy Birthday, George," she said.

"Happy Birthday, Fred," she said. He embraced Angelina.

She hugged him back as he began to sob.

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	7. Meet Your New Neighbor

**Sorry for the long wait! The last couple of weeks of school are very much the worst! But summer is here and I'm back at it! Expect two or three chapters a week from now until the end of the story. Thanks for waiting and for those of you followers who have been waiting a LONG time, feel free to PM me and verbally beat me up. :)**

**December 3, 2001**

Angelina was fed up! It was 1:00 AM and the noises and bumps in the hall had been going on for three hours. She had her first day of work in the morning and she was already sleep deprived. Cursing at the darkness, Angelina threw on a pair of pajama pants in the dark. She tucked her wand in the back of her waistband; just in case the person wouldn't shut up, she'd set up a sound wall over her door.

Angelina burst open her door and the sudden surge of light from the hallway burned her eyes and she shielded them. Everything was kinda blurry.

"Excuse me could you quiet down? I have work in the mor-," Angelina was cut off by arms around her torso.

"What the hell?" Angelina said. She was picked up from the ground and she tried to retrieve her wand.

"Whoa, Ange, chill! It's me!" came a very annoyingly familiar voice.

Angelina rubbed her eyes. The stocky form of George began to slowly appear like a photo developing. The hair was visible first. He still had a beard but it was kept up nicely and his hair was cut closer to his scalp. His breath smelled of gum instead of the horribly strong bitter smell of alcohol. Looks like the talk she had had with him worked.

"George? What the hell are you doing here?" Angelina asked, still annoyed by the raucous.

"Well look around, genius," he said, indicating the boxes scattered around the hall.

It took a second for Angelina to realize, due to her lack of sleep. George was moving in.

"Which apartment did you get? I though my floor was full," she said.

"This one," he said, pointing to the apartment across from Angelina's own, "The landlord said that it's been empty for about four months. I see you don't get around to talking to your neighbors."

"I don't see the point," she said, "So um… you look," she started.

"Amazing, yeah I know," George smirked.

"So you," she started again, this time lost for words.

"…Got help? Yeah. I went to Mungo's and they directed me to someone that could help me. I would say you had everything to do with it, but you'd just be modest and say it was all me," George beamed.

Angelina smiled, "I'm so proud of you," she said. She closed the gap between them and threw her arms around George. He smelled amazing. Like cologne and mint gum.

George gripped her tighter and Angelina didn't mind. She remembered work in the morning.

"I would offer to help you move," Angelina said as she let go of George, "but like I said, I have to wake up in like five hours, so; goodnight neighbor."

George smiled, "Goodnight, neighbor."

Angelina turned towards her door.

"Oh and, Angelina," George said.

"Yes, George," she answered. She found herself hoping for him to ask her on a date. She mentally slapped herself.

"Your pants are on backward," he said. He began to laugh loud and he supported himself against the wall. Angelina gave him the bird.

Angelina closed the door to her apartment and put her back to it.

_It's George! He's off limits!_ she said to herself. She sighed and walked off to her bedroom.

Little did she know that somewhere above her Fred was saying, _Stop being an idiot, Angelina. It's been you and George since day one._

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	8. The One-Hundred and First Date

**January 4, 2003**

"This crap is horrible," George spat as he spewed the hot liquid back in its cup, "What'd you call it?"

"Cappuccino. It's coffee. I fell in love with it when I was in America," Angelina said. She punctuated the statement with a long sip from her steaming cup.

"But I thought you said it was Italian?" George said.

"It… is… but Americans… I don't know," Angelina explained.

"Muggles are so weird," George observed. He called the waitress over and requested a cup of hot chocolate. There were a few beats of silence.

"What're we doing, George," Angelina asked. She took George's hand that was resting on the table. He withdrew. This had happened so many times in the past couple of months.

"What… what do you mean?" George asked. His cheeks flushed and he avoided eye contact with Angelina.

"You know what I mean George. Are we, or aren't we, a couple. You've taken me on like a hundred dates," George winced at the word date, "and you basically live in my apartment."

"Well, your apartment's bigger than mine," George tried to explain, "and your refrigerator stays stocked."

"And you enjoy my company… right?" Angelina asked. It felt like she was grasping at straws here and she was pretty tired of it.

"I mean… yeah. Your funny and I like spending time with you."

"Thanks, George but… Oh Merlin! Do you like me or not?" Angelina basically shrieked at him. A couple of people in the coffee house turned to look.

"Yeah, hi guys. You could probably turn back around now," Angelina said. An older woman with her poodle looked offended and Angelina smiled at her. She became uncomfortable and turned back around.

George began to laugh and Angelina turned her attention back to him. He instantly became sober.

"You're so rude," he said, less like a judgment and more like a compliment.

"I know. So answer the question. I need to know if you like me before I start to believe that you do and if I believe that you do and you don't I'm gonna get let down pretty hard and I really don't like getting let down cause then in my head I go to that place where-," Angelina found her lips blocked.

George leaned across the table and placed his lips to Angelina's. Angelina's eyes were open out of shock but she soon closed them.

George sat back down and stared at Angelina across the table.

"Merlin, your mental," George said. He straightened his collar, "That's the only way I could shut you up. Oh, you can open your eyes now."

Angelina's eyes opened as if she was just having the most beautiful dream, only to have been awoken by a pail of cold water to her face.

She reached across the table and slapped George, "Where do you get off pushing me away for SIX MONTHS only to kiss me now?" she shrieked even louder than last time. No one turned to look, probably afraid to face the Wrath of Angelina.

"You're over looking the fact that my lips are as soft and buttery as French croissants. Or at least that's what that Beauxbaton girl told me," George said as he rubbed his reddened cheek.

"A… You…. Ugh!" Angelina was at a loss for words.

George smirked at her, "But to answer your question, Ange, I've liked you since third year. I've loved you since you found me sobbing on Hogwarts's lawn and you held me."

Angelina stared at him, "But you were such a prat during school," she said.

"I still am one, doll, you just don't notice cause you like me too much," he observed. Angelina pulled her hand back, threatening to slap him. He held his hands up in surrender.

"And it's taken you," she counted to herself, "eleven years to tell me because," Angelina asked. Then the answer smacked her in the face. His reason was the same reason Angelina hadn't kissed him that day when he had first moved in. Fred.

"Well you were kind of dating Fred all throughout school. And then I was a drunk for a couple of years and you were in America."

"Yeah. I get it. I understand, but you're still an arse. You allowed me to wait six months for you to tell-," Angelina was again cut off by George's lips.

"You don't ever shut up do you?" George asked, "C'mon, let's go home. I mean let's go to your apartment," George laughed.

Angelina let George lead the way. Before they got out of the door a nearly bald older man tugged on George's sleeve, "I hope you can handle that girlfriend of yours. She's a handful," he observed.

George guffawed as he walked out of the shop and Angelina fought the urge to tip the old man out of his chair.

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	9. Let's Get Hitched!

**May 12, 2003**

Angelina was sitting in the kitchen of the Burrow with scrolls scattered across the table.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed in frustration. She checked her watch. 2:04 in the morning. The candle in front of her was down to a nub and so was her patience. Angelina's hair was a mess, so much so that she had lost a quill in it earlier. She was currently going over the seating chart for the wedding reception.

One hundred one year old Aunt Tessie wasn't allowed to sit near the bar because she liked to drink herself into a stupor. Cousin Shamus didn't like Uncle Bert and if placed at the same table, they were likely to have a row. Plus George had four brothers and a sister and all but one of them had significant others, and arranging them all near the head table was quite hard.

Angelina shot upright at the sound of a bump. She grabbed her wand and aimed it toward the sound. Her eyes had long been adjusted to the dark and they were pleased to find Angelina's fiancé on the last step of the stairs. Her posture relaxed and she placed her wand back atop the scattered scrolls.

Without a word George walked up to his stressed fiancé. He raised his wand and the scrolls rolled in on themselves and were stacked into a pyramid. He placed his wand beside hers and began to massage her shoulders. Angelina rolled her shoulders as he massaged and she melted into him.

George bent down and kissed his wife on her cheek. "Let's elope," he said.

Angelina smiled at the idea and she chuckled, "Sounds lovely, but your mum would kill us. Now would you like your groomsmen to wear gloves? Personally I find them useless but-."

"Angelina I'm serious," George said.

"Yes, so am I. The gloves in this Madam Malkin's catalog are quite ghastly," she said.

"No, Ange, I mean about eloping," George said simply. He sat in front of Angelina on the opposite side of the table. He stared in her russet colored eyes and tried to gauge her reaction.

Angelina stared back into George's own brown eyes to see if he was kidding. After two beats she realized that he was serious.

"Uh… well we've already did so much," Angelina said, not nearly convincing enough.

"Ange, the wedding is set two weeks from now and we have yet to arrange for flowers or food. The invitations just came in yesterday and since you want to handwrite them all… well long story short you're stressed. Mum can't help what with dad's flu and all."

"Yeah, well. I am stressed but it means so much to your mum."

"All my mum cares about is you being her newest daughter," George said. He gripped her hand across the table.

Angelina mulled the idea over for a full minute. Angelina took one of the scrolls off of the pyramid and grabbed one of the quills she had been using. She turned the chart (which consisted of numerous x's and cross-outs) over and handed it to George.

"She's going to need and explanation," Angelina said.

George smiled as he dipped the quill into the inkwell:

_Dear Mum,_

_Do your best not to curse the house ablaze. We are fine. We're probably in London or something. Or maybe in the States, I've always fancied a trip to Las Vegas. I don't know where we're going but I know by the time you get up to fix breakfast; Angelina and I will be married. We'll be back before long. We love you. _

_Signed,_

_Mr. and Mrs. George Weasley_

The next morning, the Muggle villagers of Ottery St. Catchpole, where the Burrow was located on the outskirts of, were awoken by a shriek of horror. "I WILL _KILL_ HIM!"

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**I am aware I skipped an, I'm sure many consider, important step in their relationship, the proposal. I did skip it intentionally. I plan on doing something with it later on. :)**

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	10. I Think I'll Call Him Frederick

**November 5, 2003**

"Angelina, I'm taking you to St. Mungo's now," George said, "_Scourgify_," he cast as he pointed his wand at the puddle of vomit on the floor.

"No, George," she said, "You need to go to work." She sat upright on the sofa. Her face was ashen and her lips dry.

"Lee will do quite fine. You've had this bug for two weeks, Ange. Aren't you tired of throwing up?"

"Um… well I'm okay. I don't have a fever. No chills, no runny nose. I'm just throwing up," she said. She tried not to meet George's eyes.

"Well if you won't got to St. Mungo's, I'll get Mum to come to you," he said. He stood and raised his wand and a silvery white light shot out. The flash took the form of an exceptionally large dog, possibly a Great Dane.

"Tell Mum-," George started to instruct.

"No, George. Your mum already knows what's wrong. She was the first to know, actually," she said. Again she did not meet the eyes of her husband.

George squinted his eyes. He dismissed his Patronus with a flick of his wand as he strode to the couch on which Angelina was recovering from her up-chucking earlier.

"Ange, just tell me. You don't have a fever, so that rules out Dragon Pox and Spattergroit. Oh God, did you accidently eat a Puking Pastille? I thought I got rid of all of them from the house," George chewed his bottom-lip, which he only did when he (very occasionally) got nervous.

"No, George, none of those are it," Angelina said. She finally locked eyes with her husband, "I'm pregnant."

George's eyes became glassy, "Huh?" he asked, as if he didn't hear her the first time.

"I said… I'm pregnant." She was looking for a reaction on George's face. Any reaction. His face remained blank for what seemed like hours. Then a lonely tear spilled from his each eye and a smile broke out on his face. Angelina smiled. George pulled her (gently, now) into a tight embrace.

The two hugged for a while as George cried. "You're such a pansy, George Weasley," Angelina said in between her own happy sobs.

"You started first you crybaby," George pointed out.

"You definitely started it," she defended with a laugh.

George pulled his wife into another hug in which he said, "You know, if it's a boy, we're naming him-," he started.

"Frederick Lee Weasley? Yeah I wouldn't have it any other way," Angelina agreed with a smile.

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	11. And Then There Were Four (Or Five)

**January 7, 2007**

"Your 'air looks quite 'orrible, Angeleena," Fleur mused as she dug for a brush in her purse.

"Geez, Fleur. She just gave life to a miniature human being," Ginny interjected.

"Well, zat leetle 'uman being does not want to see a crow's nest on 'er mommy's head," Fleur complained. She began to brush Angelina's considerably tangled hair.

"Thanks for coming guys," Angelina said. Her voice was a tad scratchy from the yelling. Angelina had an unusually high threshold for pain (she had once broken her arm during a pickup game of Quidditch and she wanted to continue playing), but that delivery was _the_ most painful moment of her life. Fred was born without much problem or fuss but Roxanne Erica Weasley wanted to make a grand entrance into this world.

"Well obviously we would all be here," Hermione said from the sofa in the corner of the large maternity room.

"Yeah, Angelina, we had to check on you. We heard it was brutal. I'm not sure if George's ego will ever recover from the swearing you did at him yesterday," Audrey smiled.

"We're never having sex again," Angelina said, matter-of-factly, "The next time I see that man's penis will be too soon."

The Weasley girls all laughed boisterously as the door to the room opened.

"Mumma!" came a small but powerful voice. Angelina heard him before she saw him. The girls all smiled as the two and a half year old climbed onto the hospital bed. His sand brown curls stuck up wildly on his head and his clothes were wrinkled.

"Did Daddy forget how to use a brush and an iron, Freddie?" Angelina asked with a smile.

"No, he did not," George said as he walked into the room. His own clothes were wrinkled and his hair unkempt.

"Hello, ladies," George addressed to his sisters-in-law and Ginny.

The girls all looked at each other and again laughed, no doubt thinking about Angelina's declaration of celibacy just before George walked in.

"How weird," he observed.

"We're going to go have lunch down the street, Ange," Ginny announced as the girls gathered their bags and things.

"Okay, guys. Thanks for coming and Ginny," Angelina said.

"Yeah, sis?"

"Tell Harry congratulations on his promotion. Head Auror is a big deal," she said.

"I will," Ginny smiled. She blew Angelina a kiss. As the door closed George pulled the recliner chair to sit beside Angelina's bed.

"Actually the crinkled clothes and nappy hair are all a product of your son's eagerness to meet Roxy," George said. Fred nodded his head vigorously to agree with his daddy.

"Roxy? I thought we agreed we didn't want our daughter to sound like a S-T-R-I-P-P-E-R," Angelina spelled out the last word to censor herself.

"I like Roxy, mumma," Fred said with a hopeful, heartbreaking look in his eyes. Angelina's heart melted.

"Roxy it is," she said after some deliberation. She tickled her son and he began to giggle.

The small family sat and chatted until there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," the three said in near unison.

"Announcing Ms. Roxanne Weasley," Padma Patil-Thomas said as she walked through the door. A crib magically rolled in behind her.

"Baby?!" Fred half-asked half-yelled.

The apparently sleeping baby began to cry at the sound of the exclamation before the crib got to Angelina's bedside.

"Aww, shh shh," Padma cooed as she lifted the bundle of pink out of the crib. She handed Roxanne to her mother. She smiled at the family of four and crept from the room after Angelina thanked her and George gave her a hug.

Fred looked cowed and sad at the sound of the baby crying, "I'm sorry, Roxy," he apologized to his sister who had just stopped crying. He slowly crept up to the head of the bed to get a better look at his baby sister.

George stood from his seated position and gazed at his newest bundle of joy.

Roxanne's eyes were barely open, as she was probably trying to go back to sleep. She had a full head of jet-black hair and her skin was a nice tan color, similar to her brother's.

Fred was now inches away from the baby's face. His breath was held and his eyes unblinking.

"Isn't she pretty Fre-," Angelina started.

"SHH, mumma. My little sister is sleeping," Fred said in a very non-two-and-a-half-year-old-like way.

Angelina was taken aback but strictly in a proud way. She smiled up to George.

"Look what we did," she mouthed. She smiled proudly at her kids.

Fred had plucked up the nerve to touch his sister and he began to pet her head, not unlike someone would a sleeping puppy.

"She's soft, daddy," Fred mused as he stroked his sister's head.

"Yeah, I bet, son," George said as he walked to Angelina's other side to get a better look at his daughter.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw what looked like someone sitting on the sofa that Hermione had occupied twenty minutes prior. George turned his head quickly and he could have sworn (and still does swear) that he saw Fred Weasley the First sitting on the sofa, legs crossed and smiling. George blinked and all he saw was a pile of things left by the girls, assorted baby pajamas and some knitted caps with REW on them, no doubt knitted by Hermione.

George blinked back tears as he closed his eyes and, using Angelina's words, said to Fred, "Look what we did, little brother."

Frederick Weasley looked down upon the scene. He smiled and said, "Yeah, big brother, yeah I see it."

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**I was set on writing fifteen chapters for this story. I have told all of the necessary stories of George Weasley's family but I still want to go with the fifteen chapter idea. Please (I did say please) PM me and comment for any ideas or any family stories you want me to write about. :)**

**Read, Enjoy, Review, Favorite, Follow, in that order :)**


	12. Hurricane Roxy

**Shout-out to KnightGhost10287 for making me blush and to LadyRuthless for un-confusing the whole Which Twin Is Which game that always seems to befuddle my brain when I write anything at all that has Fred and/or George in it.**

**May 20, 2020**

The sound of the reception was reminiscent of King's Cross Station on the first of September, which probably spoke to how many people attended the wedding of Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley (well I suppose Victoire Lupin now).

Angelina found herself at a table with George, Lee Jordan, and his wife, Madison. Madison was telling a story about her uncle, the current Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. A tugging at her robes pulled Angelina from the stories.

"Mum!" a thirteen-year old Roxy said. She was with her best friend, Michelle Chang-Sims.

"Yes, sweetie?" Angelina asked. She tucked a strand of Roxy's curly hair behind her ear.

"Guess what I just saw," she said. She and Michelle pulled up a chair to the table. At this point she had everyone at the tables attention, which is presumably what she wanted in the first place.

"What Rox?" George asked. He was amused because, not unlike his brother Fred, Roxanne always had hilarious stories about pretty mediocre things.

"So Chelley and I were walking toward the head table to talk to Vic and Teddy and we decided to take the route with the most people because, let's just face it… we both look wonderful today and why not show it off?" she genuinely asked.

The adults at the table shrugged and Angelina agreed.

"Well as we walked past the little room over there that leads to the bathroom we heard some suspect noises so we choice to investigate. Uncle Lee, I'm gonna need you to control yourself," she looked at him. He smiled and nodded. At this point tears were coming to George's eyes because he was trying his best to hold in his laughter. He had already figured out what was going on.

"Well wedged in a corner between a water fountain and a rubbish bin," she paused for dramatic effect, "was your daughter," she pointed at Lee and Madison, "and my brother," she pointed at herself, "snogging!"

George's fits of laughter had started long before the revelation and he was now beating the table with each guffaw. Lee had spit butterbeer across the table at a, luckily, empty chair. Madison and Angelina both had a mixture of shock, humor, and something complex on their faces; the complex feeling being the realization that their kids were growing up.

Feeling that her job here was done, Roxy gathered her friend and skipped off to inspire some more adults to spew some butterbeer.

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**Sorry for the brevity of the chapter but I got bored and I felt like having a (hopefully) humorous chapter.**

******Read, Enjoy, Review, Favorite, Follow, in that order :)**


	13. Curse Breaking and Apron String Cutting

**July 5, 2022**

"No. Absolutely not," Angelina said. She was sitting across her dining room table from her son, Fred. George sat passively to her left.

"Ma, the job, in all actuality, is not that dangerous. I mean, I know there's this whole stigma to being a curse breaker like never being home, and dying early, and never being able to settle down and have a family, but-," he started explaining.

"And you seem to have made my point for me," Angelina said. She slid her chair back from the table, as if to get up.

"Wait, but mum, Uncle Bill did it for damn near thirty years," Fred said. His mother's closed-mindedness had begun to irritate him.

"Watch your mouth in front of your mother," George said. Fred had almost forgot his dad was there, he had said so little. He had already won over his dad with the idea and this meeting was primarily to get Angelina in the same headspace as his father.

"Sorry, Mum. But you _have_ to see what I mean. I'm just as smart as Uncle Bill is. He made it through and plus, he had fun. He had three, count 'em, THREE kids and as of two days ago, he's a grandfather. Plus, and not that this is the reason why I want to do this, he's loaded! All the money he's made over the years has really added up, Ma. I _really_ want to do this," Fred pleaded. At this point he was leaning forward in his chair, hung up on his mother's answer.

Angelina looked deeply into her son's eyes, which were the same shade of brown as hers. Her son was not bragging by any means. He was the most skilled Wizard to go through Hogwarts since Hermione Granger herself and he was as powerful as his Uncle Harry. In fact, Angelina was pretty confident in the fact that he would be okay if she were to let him get the job. But there was that instinct (and she assumed it was that maternal instinct that clicked when the doctor told her she was, in fact, pregnant) that held her tongue from saying that he had her permission.

"I understand you are skilled, Fred, but I can't give you my permission to do this. You could die," she said plainly. She looked away from her son, hating to see that pleading look in his eye.

"Permission?" Fred asked. His voice was odd, different than Angelina had heard it before.

Angelina looked up and met Fred's eye. "Yeah, permission," she said.

"Ma, I wasn't asking permission. No disrespect meant, but I don't need it."

"You would accept this job with out mine and your father's permission?" Angelina asked. Her eyes became fierce and her nostrils flared.

"Actually dad and I talked about it already and-," Fred stopped talking due to his father giving him the 'stop talking' neck cut gesture.

"You knew about this?" Angelina asked her husband, in a voice reminiscent to a banshee.

George eyed Angelina's wand, which was on the table. He thought about his odds of dodging any of the Unforgivable Curses she might throw at him. "Well, Fred and I talked about it and-," George started.

"And you think he should do this? You don't think he needs my permission?" at this point Angelina was standing and her husband and son sitting, giving the impression that she was chastising them.

"I am seventeen, mum," Fred said. He was now standing too, "I don't _need_ your permission for anything."

Angelina's mouth closed and opened, as if she had numerous things to say. She did this for about twenty seconds until she finally said, "Fine."

She turned on her heel, almost as sharply as if she was about to Apparate, and she strode to the stairs. Fred and his father watched as she stomped up the stairs and listened as she walked to her room and, not surprisingly, slammed the door.

"Dad, you're probably sleeping in one of the guest rooms tonight," Fred said.

George smiled and stood, "I'd be surprised if your mother let me past that top step, son," George said as he patted his son on the back. He walked to the arch that separated the dining room from the foyer, but just before he reached the threshold he stopped and turned around.

"Son," George said.

"Yeah, dad?"

"If you get permanently Transfigured into a dung beetle, then your mother will never forgive me and she will probably, in turn, Transfigure me into a pile of dung. So, do your best to, you know, not get cursed."

"Yes sir, I will do my best," Fred said with a chuckle.

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	14. Happiness

**LadyRuthless- This isn't it… wait until the next chapter :)**

**May 20, 2031**

The sun was setting and the orange light bounced off of all of the wine glasses that sat on the table. The idea to have the reception outside of the Burrow was all Angelina's. She looked around at everyone from the head table, which the bride and groom (Sierra and Fred) and their parents sat at. Angelina looked around. She spotted her daughter with her husband at a circular table near the front. She sat with her husband, Jonathan McLaggen, and she was feeding their one-month-old son, Arthur Cormac. Angelina smiled at the vision of her baby feeding a baby. She watched as Art spewed out the bottled milk his mother was feeding him and she watched Roxy, lazy Roxy Weasley; smile as she cleaned him up.

She turned her head to her left to see her son. He had recently decided to get dreads and his hair, in Angelina's opinion, looked like a nappy, twisted birds nest. He was talking to his best man, James. Obviously James said something funny because Fred let out a huge peal of laughter. Angelina also noticed, that even though Fred was joking with James and Sierra was accepting numerous compliments from her aunts-in-law and cousins-in-law, the newlyweds were still holding hands.

Angelina was pulled back to the first twenty-four hours after she and George got married. They got an awfully shitty motel room (they had about sixty bucks in Muggle money) and they literally never got more than five feet from one another and, more times than not, they were in physical contact with each other.

The memory brought a smile to Angelina's face. She turned to her right, expecting to see her husband when she remembered that he had went to the bathroom a while ago.

She searched the crowd for her husband, suddenly eager to hold his hand. She found him talking to his mother. She smiled as she watched him kiss his eighty-one-year old mother. Her telltale orange hair had faded into a steel gray and her full face had lost some of its volume but she was still the matriarch of the Weasley family, her kind brown eyes never changing. Angelina suddenly realized that's she would one day, be a matriarch of her own family. Her children, will one day have numerous children and her grandchildren, will one day, have children. She will be called gram, or grandma, or nana and she would be happy. And really, that's all she could as for.

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**One more chapter left boys and girls... well two... kinda... you'll see. **

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	15. Do Not Go Gentle, Into That Good Night

**April 8, 2062**

The rising sun was beautiful as Angelina stared out of the window. She set down her cup of coffee on George's bedside table. He was sleeping in the hospital bed. She looked at his face and it was almost completely devoid of wrinkles, despite how much he smiled throughout his life. In fact, he was smiling now. Angelina had assumed he was having a dream, possibly one about the day they were married or the day Fred was born. Or maybe he was thinking about the mischief he got into with his twin.

Room 410 at St. Mungo's had become her home for the past month, ever since her husband George had been admitted for very mysterious causes. He had just come back from the States (another Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had opened in Salem) and he fell ill. They had no idea what was wrong with him. He had no fever, no marks, and no infections. He was just very tired. And George spoke to that fact. He slept most of the time these days and when he was awake he ate and he spoke about his grandchildren and his memories of Fred then he'd fall back asleep once more.

Just now, her husband stirred in bed. Angelina walked over from the window to sit beside him. She eased into the chair; her bad back (probably multiple years of Quidditch to blame) always throwing out at the slightest wrench.

"Ange, my angel?" George asked. His eyes were barely open.

"Yes, George? You hungry, darling?" Angelina asked. She got up to get some Jell-O, a Muggle food that required very little chewing.

"No, Angelina, sit. I'm fine," he said.

"Okay," she said. She placed her hand on the bed and he grabbed it. He gave it a tight squeeze.

"When did you realize it?" he asked. Angelina looked at him. She knew what he meant.

"When I realized that we were dating? Or when I realized that I loved you? Because they happened around the same time," she clarified.

"Tell about the moment," George said. His eyes were closed, but he continued listening.

"Well," Angelina started:

**October 20, 2002**

Angelina had woken up in a bad mood. Quidditch season had recently ended which meant, as an announcer, she was out of a job. That meant one thing: job searching.

That realization prompted her to pull the covers over her head and pray to Merlin for sleep. Then she took a deep breath and… smelled smoke.

Angelina just knew her apartment had to be on fire. She grabbed her wand on her nightstand and catapulted from her bed. She ran to the kitchen and saw there was a light haze of smoke in the kitchen and adjoining TV room. She searched for the inferno but the only thing mildly fiery she could find was a mop of red hair that stood in front of the stove.

George's back was to Angelina and he appeared to be chopping something. He raised his wand and all of the smoke began to clear from the air.

"What in the _bloody_ hell are you doing?" Angelina asked. She looked around the kitchen and it was a mess. Flour was spilt on the counter and some was flaking down to the linoleum floor. Red food dye stained her sink and a dirty mixing spoon was placed, without care, on her autographed picture of Gwenog Jones. She saved the picture first.

"_Tergeo,_" she cast at the picture and the crude oil-like substance vanished from the photo.

"Well I didn't quite expect you to sleep until four o'clock in the afternoon," George said.

"Yeah, well, I'm depressed. I have no job," she said. She grabbed a bowl and got down a box of cereal.

"No, no, no, no," George chastised. He grabbed the box from her and placed it back in the cabinet.

"I'm hungry," Angelina pouted.

"Well that's good, because I'm making food," George said, "If you didn't notice," he gestured to the mess

"Oh, I noticed," Angelina observed, "but I figured your cooking would be inedible," she said. She pulled out a chair from the small dining table.

"Well these burgers are quite inedible," George said as he dumped the blakened ground beef into the rubbish bin, "But the red velvet cake I fixed you is, in fact edible."

"And you made me a cake, because?" Angelina asked.

"Are you serious?" George asked. He wiped his hands off on his apron ('Kiss The Ginger Chef') and he sat in the chair adjacent to Angelina.

"Yeah," she said.

"You must be depressed, Angelina. It's your birthday and you don't even remember," George said. He shook his head as he got up. He brought the cake from the oven and placed it on the stove. It was even and not at all lumpy. He grabbed a bowl of what Angelina assumed was icing and he began to ice the cake.

"I knew it was my birthday… but how did you?" Angelina asked. She stood and walked toward George.

"You told me in our… fourth year, I do believe. I think I gave you a full day of free, no consequence insults. And my feelings are still a little bruised," he laughed.

Angelina barely remembered that. She remembered the birthday though. She and Fred had spent the whole day at Black Lake (the only time she had ever skipped class). But now it was cming back to her. They had come back to the common room and using her coupon on George, calling him numerous hilarious things and creatively calling him dumb. It was all in good fun though. She was a little taken aback that he remembered this.

By this point, George had cut the cake and he served her a piece. She dug in and it was delicious. He obviously got the baking skill from his mother.

"This cake is delicious, thanks!" Angelina said, spraying crumbs onto her lap.

George chuckled and said, "Anytime. I'll probably end up doing the same thing next year," George smiled.

Angelina didn't realize it until much later, but at that moment she had fallen in love with him.

**Present Day**

"I knew I was doing something right," George said. He squeezed her hand again, "I have and will always love you, Angelina," he said.

"And you are my heart, George," she said. She figured that that story he just told would be the last one that he heard. She laid her head on his stomach and she cried. She didn't want to but she did. She felt his breathing slow, as his stomach slowed down in it's rising and falling. She felt his hand's grip go slack.

"Fred?" he asked.

Angelina looked up, expecting to see her son walk in, but she saw nothing in the room. It was empty except for the two of them.

"I see Fred, Angelina. I love you," he said. She gripped his hands tight. She wanted to tell him not to go, to stay with her another day, but she knew that would be selfish.

"Go with him, George. I know you missed him," she said as the tears cascaded from her eyes.

George smiled and closed his eyes one final time as he rode into that good night.

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I would love to say that Angelina lived to be a one hundred fifty year old witch, who got to enjoy her great-great-great grandchildren, but alas, not everyone is that lucky. Although in a way, she was lucky. Angelina only had to live without her husband for about thirteen hours. She died in her sleep, with a smile on her face. Her last word was, "George."

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**Read, Enjoy, Review, Favorite, Follow, in that order. Thank you!**

**That was, quite possibly, the most depressing chapter. In history. Ever. But it had to be done. So I hope y'all liked it. I am definitely doing more "How I Met Your Mother" stories but I might need a new name. Any suggestions? Anyway, I know FanFiction is a place where writers are supposed to post what they feel like, when they feel like, and how they feel like it, and I think that's cool, but I would love to take suggestions from you guys. If you have any (reasonable) requests of anything you want me to write, I will do my best to carry it out. So if you have any suggestions, requests, or even comments about this story, Private Message me or comment** **on this chapter. Thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you for sticking with me.**


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